the most of it

I was given some very good advice recently, and whether relating to your current friends, your living situation, your job, your finances or something else, it applies: take what you have right now and learn everything you can from it.

It’s maybe not a very new idea, but its impact is undeniable, even with something simple, like, say, an avocado.

A few weeks ago, I can’t remember if it was on that day we lost all power at work or another afternoon, while Alicia and I were talking, we said something about avocados and how we’d grown to love them over time. I hated the idea of an avocado when I was little—much like the idea of tomatoes and onions and certain types of cheese—but finally at some point I’d had guacamole with tortilla chips and then later, some avocado on a sandwich and eventually in some type of sushi, and I was sold. And that same day we talked about avocados, Alicia came home to one, completely by surprise, and so I declared it great providence or, at least, a sign that I should buy some, too.

I purchased three. There was no rhyme or reason behind the number; I don’t even think there was a special sale going on. I took them, threw them in a plastic bag and into my cart and skirted through the produce section.

Later, at home, I tried to cut into one, planning to re-create On the Border’s guacamole live that I’d seen them make so many times, right in front of me, at the table. And here’s where the learning begins—if the avocado feels firm to the touch, it’s not ripe yet. One avocado in the garbage.

Over a week went by with my squeezing the fruit when I’d pass them, trying to see if they were, finally, soft and at least something like the spreadable consistency I’d seen in real-life demonstrations near a bowl of chips. When they were, with the skin giving a little when I pushed, I sliced them in half long-wise, spooned out the pits and simply scooped out bright green flesh that was as soft as butter that’s been sitting on the counter.

The resulting guacamole was fine—good, even—a simple blend of tomatoes and onions and lime juice and a jalapeno. It even made an impromptu addition to a dinner-party spread Mother’s Day evening, after it had darkened a little and we stirred it together to make it seem fresher. That was when I learned two more tips from a lovely lady from California:

1) If you leave the pit in the guacamole, it will stay bright green longer and 2) If you’re in a pinch, just combine avocado with salsa, which has most of the things you’d be adding anyway.

The thing about learning cooking is that it’s an awful lot like learning anything else—you gather information, you test, you try—but in this case, with one chief advantage: you get to eat it all in the end.

I had heard the “leave the pit in the bowl” tip before and tried it many times… but unfortunately it’s a myth (according to my own experiences and a culinary instructor I know).

What does work to keep it green though is by covering it tightly in plastic wrap. And by tightly, I mean have the plastic wrap touching the surface of the guacamole, so it hugs the inside of the bowl and the pile of guac. That works pretty well.

i adore avacodo, so much so that my bff actually bought me an avocado scooper thing from pampered chef. it’s my most prized kitchen utensil. (dorkus, i know).

more tips:
to hasten the ripening of avocados, put in brown paper bags and leave in a dark place. should ripen up by end of day. also, to prevent or slow down the browning process, lemon juice. works for apples, works for avocados.

YAY you tried it! Mmmmm and this recipe sounds delicious. I might just have to try it, if I don’t eat all my avocados before I get the chance. (I’m now in the habit of adding it to every salad and sandwich I make, which is a LOT.)

We love our avocados here, too – I buy them green, store them in the fridge and then get out 2 or 3 at a time to ripen (next to the bananas) which does help with the 12-avocados-all-ripe-together problem. They are a staple here, and both kids’ first foods. I make a very tame, slightly lame guac for them. Smushed avocado + Lawry’s seasoned salt. The kids eat it up!!

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"That's at the root of all giving, don't you think? At the root of all art. You can't hoard the beauty you've drawn into you; you've got to pour it out again for the hungry, however feebly, however stupidly. You've just got to." Elizabeth Goudge

"If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world." J.R.R. Tolkien

"Every kind word spoken, every meal proffered in love, every prayer said, can become a feisty act of redemption that communicates a reality opposite to the destruction of a fallen world." Sarah Clarkson